With Our Best Lines
by Carnivorous
Summary: The end of living their own lives is near. They have to think of a way to prevent the slaughter of their loved ones. Neither can handle what the future has in store. One-shot. Begins in the middle of Catching Fire "I don't care what Katniss is thinking."


All of us pretend that it's Katniss' idea, but we all know I've thought of it significantly more than either of them. I don't care if its rude that I turn my back on them after we've agreed it's the best thing to do. I don't care that they can see the disappointment scrawled across my face. For the first time since I can remember, I don't care what Katniss is thinking. I hear her saying she thought I wanted this. Haymitch couldn't be more right with his reply.

There shouldn't be a plate of food on my dresser. It's impossible to say how long I stand, staring at it, debating if it'd be better to smash it on a wall or my head. I've broken too many things on this tour when I'm pissed, though. That's not going to fly when I'm married.

_Married._

I don't even have to say it out loud for a bitter taste to fill my mouth. Part of me says I'd be happier watching her grow old with Gale from afar. The same part tells me I should've just died in the arena while I had the chance. Another part flutters in excitement. If we're married… I can't say I haven't thought about sex. Holding her while she has nightmares, it's not even close, and I would never want to move in without her feeling the same, but I'd be lying if I told myself if the idea never occurred to me. The idea of spending forever with her is wonderful in itself, but no matter the horror a seventeen-year-old boy has faced, you can't stop him from thinking about sex.

It takes a cold shower to douse those flames. Then the desire is gone and I'm left with the other two outlooks. Death or not marrying her are much more ideal than this. Who would have ever thought I'd consider another slashing from Cato more idyllic than spending the rest of my life with Katniss? Then again, it's not _her_ that makes it horrible. It's knowing that if we don't people will die. We won't because the country will want to watch us for as long as possible, but everyone we love will be picked off. Losing all of those people makes me nauseous. The icy water on my body doesn't make the feeling fade. My fingers slip as I stab at the button to turn the shower off and eventually I just slam my fist into it. Water drips from my eyelashes and nose and hair and I sink with the drops to the ground.

I love her. I love her more than anything. But how am I supposed to love her if I'm to spend the rest of my life with her, knowing she's not happy? She'll be miserable and I'll be miserable and everything just…

Fuck.

* * *

><p>I do it. I ask her to marry me. Well, <em>beg<em> just to milk it as much as possible for the audience. This is something I've longed to do, but the words are acid in my mouth. Everyone goes insane. All my best efforts go into not letting Gale cross my mind, and I can tell by Katniss' expression she's doing the same. This isn't fair to any of us.

Katniss doesn't think I see it, but President Snow gives the minutest headshake of dissatisfaction when she looks at him, wondering if it was enough. Deep down I knew it wouldn't be, nothing we do will be enough to save the ones we love. Suddenly, we're getting married in the Capitol. He and Katniss joke idly about having to get her mother to approve when a seed of an idea starting budding in my head.

We can't possible stop what's already started. We can't put an end to any sort of uprising that other people are organizing. The idea is in their head, they're not going to let it go because the girl who gave them hope is trying to pass it off as innocence. What will make these people fight harder? What will put the whole country into motion, moving them so deeply that they'll have no choice but to protest? The Capitol destroyed Thirteen, but what are Twelve districts and their resources against a city dependent on those districts? There wouldn't be any hope of the Capitol demolishing us all, there'd be nothing left. They couldn't beat us if they had nothing to build their weapons with, or feed their soldiers with.

What will stir something in the intelligent, the brave, and the weak, and the simple minded against such a force as the Capitol?

It takes me a while to think of something, but it's when Katniss tells me she wants to eat everything at the celebration that the light bulb flickers on. My expression must make her think I didn't notice the President's discontent at our sacrifice. I am much more perceptive than anyone gives me credit for. Then I smile, not because she wants to consume each dish, but because I finally have it. I tell her to pace herself, because it can give me more time to think, to chip away at this seedling of an idea until I'm left with the pure thing, ready to be thrown into action.

With all the people we have to meet it becomes tiresome, but holding Katniss' hand grounds me. Then I almost drink a liquid that makes everyone vomit their food back up, only so that they can indulge in more. Even without it touching my lips, I feel revolted.

We dance. I let my thoughts pour out. Not all of them. I have to be careful here. Katniss' grey eyes tell me she's feeling the same, that we can't do anything now to stop the fire from spreading, we have to fan it. But we can't talk about it now.

She dances. With Plutarch Heavensbee. His fingers on her body. His eyes lingering on her face. No one… _no one_ can touch her like that. Especially not him. I'm jumping at the opportunity to steal her back, but it's hardly polite and there are too many people around. These sad excuses of humans sicken me. Some are too stupid to realize what's happening around them – like the prep team – but the Gamemakers have no right to show their faces after all the lives they've cut unbearably short.

I take to talking about cakes with the bakers. Not a word that they say registers in my head, but I'm trying my hardest to be charming and let them think I care about what they say. It's only a distraction so that I don't run off with Katniss.

In the car she grips my hand. We don't look at each other, but our hands cling together as if the world is ending. Which it might be… On the train she lets me into her room. Haymitch intercepts me on the way, extremely inebriated.

"Don't do anything stupid with each other," he says to me, swaying slightly. I don't respond because he knows she would never submit to that, and I wouldn't put her in that situation. There's a hundred percent chance he won't remember in the morning anyways.

Katniss is already slumbering when I enter, and I sneak in next to her, smoothing the soft hair that's been smothered with sleep. Her body is entirely relaxed. But her lips are moving. Softly, not urgently.

"I'm sorry."

That's all she says. Maybe she's awake, but as I pull the covers up she doesn't stir. If she's dreaming it's not meant for me. But her fingers clutch around mine as I slip my hand over hers on my pillow. It _is_ aimed at me.

"It's not your fault," I say, softer than a whisper. On her forehead I plant a soft kiss because I can't help myself.

Tingling in my arm awakens me. There was a nightmare, but I don't care to attempt to recall it. Katniss' head is cutting the circulation off in my right arm, but the sleep that has captured her is beyond peaceful. The corners of her lips are curled into a content smile. It's dawn, and another hour or two of tingling doesn't compare to the notion of her sleeping soundly for once. If it goes any longer though I might make her wake up; one artificial limb is enough.

The initial rage of yesterday's decision has mostly worn off; I feel mostly resentful that President will never be satisfied as long as we're both alive and well. He wouldn't kill us, would he? No. Maybe. If he does, it will just be one of us, so that the other can suffer with knowing what they've done. What I've planned out though, it will ensure that if they kill someone, it's me.

My mind wanders back to Katniss. Usually I hold her from behind, keeping her safe from terrors she can't see. Maybe the key to her peaceful sleep is holding her like this. I realize our free arms are slung across each other. What I would give to keep it like this… to make this marriage something real.

I don't know when I'm going to do it, but the opportunity will present itself. It has to be sooner rather than later before anything can go seriously wrong. And I can't tell her, because I need her reaction to be genuine, and she's the worst liar I've ever met.

I'm going to impregnate Katniss.

Not literally, but figuratively. It's extremely problematic if I time it badly. She'll have to show a baby bump and eventually give birth to a real live thing, but we're doomed to be in danger eventually, and if I do it when this entire thing is about to boil over, no one will ever know. Plus, if we're punished for it, they'll know it was my idea. If they think it's true, Snow will have _me_ killed to make Katniss suffer. No matter which of us he decides to eliminate, people will be furious since there's a baby on the way. Weapons are only so powerful when they're matched up against the raw emotion of thousands.

* * *

><p>It couldn't be a more perfect opportunity. With some fine-tuning and mental reviewing, my plan is ready to be put into action. It's almost like Cesar has plotted his questions out based on everything I want to say.<p>

The words leave my mouth in a tragic, simple, morose sentence. No one can respond. I watch the screen for Katniss' reaction, because that's the only one I care about. I know how the crowd will react already. It's Katniss that matters. It's always been Katniss.

She looks ready to cry. It's everyone's greatest fear, having children that could be sent to their death. Her grey eyes are shining, but I know she won't let the tears spill over. Her expression is stoic. _Perfect_.

Chaos possesses the hearts of the audience. They cry. They scream. They're devastated. As if the realization that kids are dying finally hits them. The idea of _our_ child dying as a result of the games is too much to bear, because this is the closest any of them will ever get to having their children die in the games. It's worked so beautifully, I can picture the crowds around the country going insane with fury. Snow will take it out on us in the arena, but we were never going to make it out alive anyways. I was right to detonate the bomb while I'm still breathing.

I walk with my head held high over to Katniss again, my eyes welling with tears now. It's ridiculous, but I want them to see, to believe it's real. We'll never have children even if it was with other people, we'll never share more than a few more days together, and we'll never get to watch the revolution swing into action. The realization hits home. Katniss' hold on my hand is stronger than it's ever been, and I give her a small squeeze; it says I'm sorry, but not. I know she'll understand what I've done.


End file.
